


Junkie

by yathrin



Category: Heavy Rain
Genre: Blackmail, Blood Kink, Degradation, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Abuse, Verbal Abuse, kind of, this is filthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 03:04:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15921512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yathrin/pseuds/yathrin
Summary: Norman needs his fix. Carter is not willing to make it easy for him to get it.





	Junkie

**Author's Note:**

> without you fuckers I'd never dared to actually write this. you know who I'm talking about <3

Norman Jayden, 34. FBI’s wonder kid, specialized in forensic analysis and acclaimed psychological profiler, sent by Washington in a deliberate attempt to paint the police department as a bunch of incompetent thugs compared to the sophisticated, straight-laced agent they had sent. Oh, how Blake had hated every damn thing about him at first sight, his vacant, icy eyes, the distant attitude he kept as if he were in a different plane of existence from everyone around him. Everything about the young man Carter found obnoxious, the unpleasantness of it all aggravated by his overall politeness and spotless demeanour. He had even dared scold him -him!, a grizzled police lieutenant that probably doubled the bastard in years of professional experience- for not following the proper protocols during an investigation. A glorified bureaucrat, a trained poodle.

It made it all the more perversely satisfying now for Blake to see him with his knees brought to the dirty restroom tiles, trying to suppress the shivers that threaten to shake him violently from his brown-haired head to his curled toes.

“P-please, Carter,” the words come out stuttering.

Jayden can’t bring himself to look at him but his bloodshot eyes sometimes dart towards Blake’s right hand, which holds the small vial that gives him leverage over the pitiful wreck of a man beneath.

“I’ve already told you what the deal is,” Blake smirks. “Get on with it or this blue shit goes down the toilet and your reputation follows.” He forces himself to feign indifference, but his mouth is almost watering at the way the events are surely going to unfold. 

“This is unbecoming of an agent of the law-“ Jayden tries to play with his conscience. A poor attempt, at that. Blake has never been one to do things by the book. Still, he takes the chance to humiliate the man further.

“Not nearly as much as a fed going to pieces if he can’t get his high,” he mocks, and Jayden jerks his head to a side. Red flushes to his wan face and Blake finds it increasingly more difficult not to burst into a cruel laughter. He has Jayden wrapped around his finger and, soon, around something way dirtier. He feels it twitch against the stiff cloth of his pants in anticipation.

Jayden’s wobbling hands start undoing Blake’s belt buckle, then his fingers fumble with the button and the zipper. His pants fall down to the middle of his thighs and Blake doesn’t waste a second, grabbing a handful of chestnut hair and shoving Jayden’s face into the white briefs that can barely keep his erection in place.

“Now put that mouth of yours to good use, dopehead,” the police lieutenant says with unmistakable authority, releasing his grip on the brown strands to start stroking them as Jayden mouths at the cloth, wetting it with his thick spit until it goes almost transparent.

Heat wells up at Blake’s lower abdomen and goes down to his groin, which he can feel swelling with each grazing of Jayden’s lips to the point he thinks it’ll burst. He rests the fist that holds the tripto against the wall of the bathroom stall and sets his feet further apart. Blake feels a dark fulfilment when he sees the younger man’s trembling index finger slide under the elastic band of his briefs and start pulling it down without Blake having to ask. He must have accepted he’s in a dead alley, trapped between the grimy toilet and Blake’s unmovable body, and the sooner he gets on with it, the better for the withdrawal symptoms that cripple him more with each minute that goes by.

Finally Blake’s throbbing length slides out of the wet briefs, almost slapping Jayden’s scarred cheek. There are a few beats of silence during which the older policeman can almost hear the agent’s self-loathing as his chest rises and falls fitfully, readying himself for what he’s about to do. Then his finely chiselled lips graze the tip and Blake throws his head back, delighted.

There’s the feel of a shallow, quivering breath against his cock, and then it slides into Jayden’s hot mouth, tongue laving around it shyly at first. The leaner man pulls back a little, involuntarily leaving his lips lingering around the pink head before going down again with a whimper. He feels tight around Blake as he takes him in deeper with each thrust of the lieutenant’s hips, aching to make everything harsher, messier.

He wants to pull his hair, pick the pace himself, make him choke on it, and he does. Blake gets a sinful gratification when he grips Jayden’s brown hair, pulls his head up a bit and sees tears trickling at the corner of the agent’s reddened eyes. The gag reflex added to the nausea caused by withdrawal from the drug must be turning his stomach upside down, making him sick to the core. He watches his eyes flutter, numbed, hazed. Jayden’s trembling hands reach for his tie and undo the tight collar of his white shirt but no matter how much his lungs ache for air, they aren’t getting nearly enough. Blake pushes him down further, bucking up and setting the rhythm for both of them, not being able to suppress his own rasping moans.

Suddenly Jayden takes him in so deep his cock nudges against the back of his throat. Blake yanks his hair, pulling slightly out of him abruptly while he feels a familiar shiver run across his shoulders and down his spine.

“Hey now,” Blake pants, shaking his right fist; a hint of blue can be seen through his sweaty fingers. “If you get me off too quickly I might crush the vial on accident. You wouldn’t like that, would you, Norman?”

Jayden shakes his head side to side slowly, mouth still half full with Blake’s dick.

“Be a good little junkie and you’ll have your reward.”

He gives him no pause to recover, to breathe, until Jayden is on the verge of choking again, and even then Blake pushes his limits so he can hear the utterly disgusting sounds he makes with each bump.

At some point he actually thinks of bending the man over the toilet and outright _wreck_ him but at this pace he won’t last much longer. Using the hand that’s tangled in Jayden’s hair to hold him in place, he groans as Jayden takes him in further and he allows himself to thrust faster, rougher. “I bet you’re loving every second of this.”

A muffled wail seeps from his puffed lips for an answer.

Jayden swallows around him, hollowing his cheeks. A shuddering Blake revels the sight of his runny nose, reddened eyes and swollen lips, shiny with spit and precum when he finally pulls out of his mouth, the familiar tingling of release going down in waves to the tip of his cock. The fucker _is_ good looking, he has to admit it, and Blake could have never dreamed of having him all for himself like this, blessed be the moment he walked in on Jayden fighting off the withdrawal-induced deliriums.

 

Blake gives himself a couple of extra jerks so the streaks of white splatter all over Jayden’s face, sticking to his eyelashes, covering the scar in his cheek, dripping from the corners of his mouth. It mixes with the blood that has started dribbling from his left nostril. Blake swipes it with his thumb and presses the finger against Jayden’s chipped lips until he sucks on it as well. Blake would have added his own spit but his mouth has gone dry from panting.

For a while, he rests his back against the door of the stall, enjoying the view. Who would’ve thought he’d get to see the FBI’s finest like this, a hollow shell of his alleged brilliance, writhing on the dirty floor of a restroom for a fistful of dope. Blake’s narrowed eyes trail from Jayden’s tousled hair, which he dishevels further with a stroke of his slick fingers, down to the humid stain that has spread in the young man’s trousers.

 “Look at you. You’ve completely soiled yourself, just having your mouth fucked. What a ruin of a man.”

Blake’s not done yet. He wants to hear the composed FBI agent beg in that breathy voice of his and he waits for it, watching him brush his face with his sleeve in a poor attempt to get rid of all the fluids spattered over it. The lieutenant holds the vial barely inches from Jayden’s face but withdraws it as soon as his hands try to reach for it, quivering mid-air.

“Uh-uh. Magic words, Norman; you’re a real classy guy.”

“Please…”

His head hangs low and his voice comes out weak, brittle. The older man recoils; an abyss away from his usual poised, smug self, Jayden looks and sounds like he’s at the very verge of having a renewed fit and, for all the contempt he holds for him, Blake doesn’t want to deal with a convulsing, cum-covered co-worker in the restroom. He drops the vial on the floor in front of the shaking mess, who shoots his hands towards it and throws his head back, bringing the prized to his bleeding nostril.

Blake brushes his exhausted member against Jayden’s cheek before wiping it with a handful of toilet paper and pulling his briefs and pants up again.

Jayden’s Adam’s apple goes up and down his outstretched neck as he gasps for air and his upper body twitches. The empty tripto container makes a tinkling sound against the tiles and his shoulders rise and fall, synched with his hollow intakes and outtakes of oxygen. His breathing -and probably the bolted beating of his heart as well- steadies slowly but surely until he exhales deeply from his defiled throat. The sound prickles at Blake’s groin and he clenches his jaw in restraint.

“It’s pathetic,” he growls. “I bet you thought you were above something like this, always so high and mighty.” He squats and grabs Jayden’s face, pulling it close to his. “Who could’ve guessed.”

The FBI detective shakes free from his grasp abruptly, helped by the slippery surface of his skin, wet with sweat, cum and blood.

“Don’t worry, Norman boy. I’ll keep my end of the promise.”

Blake watches as Jayden stumbles to get on his feet again, helping himself up by holding onto the flush and the stall walls. His white shirt and loose tie are barely in a better shape than the rest of him and god, is it gratifying to see him like this, all drained and dripping and limp. Blake thinks he could get used to this, anticipating new ways of tearing Jayden apart.

The policeman kicks the stall open and finishes tucking his own shirt in his pants.

“I hear from now on triptocaine supplies are to be strictly controlled from this very department.”

He pulls out another vial from his back pocket and throws it carelessly at Jayden, who leaps and almost trips on his feet to catch it. A few droplets of dark blood sprinkle the floor beneath.

“Make the most of it, junkie. See you next time you need a fix.”

Blake strolls out of the restroom with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He doesn’t indulge himself in facing Jayden one last time before he goes; he’s made sure there’ll be another chance sooner than later.


End file.
